


This Is Only Temporary

by Ace_Of_Spades19



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Because i need soft killing machine, Body Dysphoria, Cuddling & Snuggling, Established Relationship, Everything is Beautiful and Nothing Hurts, Fluff and Angst, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, Grievous - Freeform, Grievous needs more love, Kinda, Multi, Other, Reader-Insert, Self-Esteem Issues, Soft Grievous, Trans Character, no beta we die like my uterus, no pronouns used, possible ooc, slight body worship, supportive boyfriend grievous, trans author
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-21
Updated: 2021-02-21
Packaged: 2021-03-17 20:35:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,927
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29598402
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ace_Of_Spades19/pseuds/Ace_Of_Spades19
Summary: Body dysphoria and self-loathing are things General Grievous is all too familiar with. So when the person he cares about most is struggling, he is there to support them in any way he can.---I'm really shit at summaries I just really needed a soft Grievous because I'm in a lot of pain. :')
Relationships: Grievous | Qymaen jai Sheelal/Reader
Comments: 2
Kudos: 18





	This Is Only Temporary

“General Grievous, I’ve finished maintenance on the last batch of droids.” Normally, when addressing the commanding figure you would provide extensive details and analysis on the state of the General’s forces. After all, you adored talking mechanics to any who would listen, to the point where most would have to tell you to shut up about it. Your uncharacteristic silence seemed to catch the cyborg’s attention, and the caped figure swiveled to look at you, receptor panels angled forward. You could feel those molten gold eyes boring into you, and while you relished any chance to look at those piercing orbs, you were instead focusing all your energy into not doubling over in pain.

“May I be excused, sir?” You gritted out, feeling as though a hot poker was being shoved into your lower abdomen, each movement only exaggerating that discomfort. Grievous stood stiffly, looking torn between going to your side, and staying where he was, clasping and unclasping his talons behind his back. However, here on the bridge of a Separatist ship, he had a reputation to upkeep. “You may.” Breathing a quick sigh of relief, you retreated from the droid occupied room, the sound of the General’s sudden bout of coughing fading into the distance. 

Your feet carried you on a familiar path through the ship. One right turn here, one left turn there, each junction drawing you closer to your destination. Finally, you stood before a door, taking deep breaths as you placed a hand on the console. The time it took scanning your DNA signature seemed to drag on for much too long, that growing discomfort rising to the point of near unbearable pain. The door opened, and you rushed inside, the metal sliding shut behind you. Immediately you felt your knees buckle, your body crumpling to the floor, and for the first time today you truly began contemplating just what was going on.

The day had started just like any other; you woke up, spending a good chunk of the ‘morning’ lounging about before leaving to work on the droids as you always did. It was halfway through the day when the pain began to make itself known, and originally you had thought perhaps you had eaten a bad ration bar. After all, it’s perfectly plausible given you’re the only organic being on the ship that actually ate anything. However, the more time that passed, the less that solution made sense.

Slowly, you began to crawl your way across the floor of the lavish bedroom, tears pricking your eyes, and all you wanted to do was curl into a ball and disappear. The worst part of all of this was that you recognized this kind of pain all too well. It was a pain that you thought you had long since escaped, having been free of it for over two years now. With small movements accompanied by distraught whimpers, you made your way to the bathroom. It was a sizable ordeal, getting to your feet, and you sniffed loudly, wanting nothing more than to hide away under the covers of your bed. But you had to know. Shaky hands grasped at the hem of your pants, and your breath caught in your throat as you pulled them down to your knees.

It wasn’t a lot, but you could clearly see it; small splotches of crimson blood staining the fabric. Your jaw tightened, heart feeling as though it had plummeted to your stomach; this was really happening. Two years of hormone therapy, and suddenly you felt like you were back where you started. You couldn’t tell if you felt like crying, or ripping something apart with your bare hands, and instead you settled for getting yourself cleaned up. You weren’t a soldier, but you handled the pain like one, showering despite the fact that it felt like someone was trying to tear out your organs. By the time you got dressed into a fresh change of clothes, you were back to crawling across the floor. Reaching the bed, you all but dragged yourself up onto the blanket ladened surface, burrowing down under the layers with a half-hearted sob, too drained both emotionally and physically to even cry properly.

\---

Perhaps fifteen minutes passed before you heard approaching footsteps. Or maybe it had been an hour; it was hard to tell when all you could focus on was your own misery. Those clanking steps stopped outside the door, and for a moment you assumed it was a droid sent to check up on you, until you heard the telltale sound of the bedroom door opening. There was only one other being that door would open for besides you. A cough followed by a quiet wheeze accompanied the noise of the door closing, slow strides approaching the bed. “What’s wrong my love?” Despite the pain you were in, you couldn’t stop the beginnings of a smile from curling the edges of your lips. Use of such a title betrayed just how concerned Grievous truly was. Another wave of pain washed over you, and your figure tightened into an even smaller ball, a whimper leaving your vocals.

Intimidating claws closed around the top of the blankets, peeling them back gently, and even though the lights of the room had been dimmed, you found yourself squinting up at the cyborg. “What’s wrong.” He repeated, this time demanding an answer, golden eyes narrowed in a way you had seen plenty of times, and finally it was like you found the energy to cry, to express the way you felt on the inside.

Tears rolled down your cheeks, arms hugging defensively at your sides. “I’m on my period…” You blubbered, and Grievous’ eyes widened, clearly caught off guard by such an admission. Sympathy that only you could inspire welled within him, and oh so carefully he joined you in the bed, strong arms winding around your significantly smaller frame to pull you against him. Almost instinctively, you curled your arms around his narrow torso, nuzzling against his protective chest plating. If you tried hard enough, you could hear his heartbeat, the proof that he was more than just a machine, and you focused all your attention on that sound. That was the sound that had lulled you to sleep on many nights, the sound that made you feel so special to be able to hear, especially on those occasions when you heard it skip a beat in your presence. You let the rhythm consume you, a welcome distraction from the void of self doubt within you.

Grievous understood that self doubt better than most. In a way, it was this shared aspect that had drawn the two of you together to begin with. Not many within the Separatist Alliance saw the cyborg General as much more than a droid, something that would follow orders and kill on command, loyal to the point of self-sacrifice. And those that knew he was more than machine, well, it was safe to say none of them would have thought he struggled with something as intimate as dysphoria and self-loathing. But it wasn’t uncommon for him to wake up and not recognize his own body, to feel an ugly, twisting knot of anxiety as he wondered if he did the right thing, undergoing such changes. 

Just as he was here for you now, you were always there for him in those moments. You knew what it was to look in the mirror and despise what it was that stared back. And you were his anchor, the one to kiss each piece of his mechanical body and reassure him that no matter what, he was loved and accepted. Grievous angled his faceplate downwards, running his sharp talons carefully through your hair. “What can I do to help?” He asked, and he truly meant it. For you, he would do anything, just as you would for him.

You leaned into the gentle touch, before grimacing in discomfort. “Heat helps.” You managed, casting a glance up at his face. In the dim light of the room, those golden eyes positively glowed, yet despite their beauty, you could see just how worried he was. Ignoring his protests to lie still, you shifted upward, hooking a hand under the bottom side of his mask and pressed a kiss to where his mouth would have been. “I’ll be alright Qymaen. It just...hurts.” You felt his mechanical body shudder at the utterance of his true name, and yet the smile you offered wasn’t nearly as convincing as your words. It was a sad smile, one that allowed Grievous a glimpse into the turmoil within you. This wasn’t just about the physical pain. It was just as much, if not more about the reminder that your body didn’t match what you knew it should be.

He felt anger. Not at you, but at the universe. Sure, one could say that him having these sorts of mental issues was a form of karmic justice. After all, he wasn’t a good person by any stretch of the imagination. He’d murdered innocents, tortured Jedi, and generally was a despicable creature. But you? All you did was heal those around you, showing even the most insignificant droid the utmost attention and care. You’d managed to find something good in him, arguably the lowliest of beings. You didn’t deserve to feel this way. 

Grievous’ head bobbed as he coughed, letting out a few heavy wheezes before his breathing normalized. A servo slipped beneath the hem of your shirt, resting against the soft skin of your stomach, and while many assumed he was cold to the touch, the metal actually radiated heat. You let out an almost discernable sigh of contentment, his faceplates nuzzling against your neck. “This is only temporary my love.” He rasped, vocal synthesizers doing their best to keep his words low and quiet. Your lips lowered into a frown, and you looked away to the side. “I know, but-” Grievous hushed you, using his free hand to grasp one of yours, the size of his servo completely dwarfing you. Raising it to his mask, he mocked a kiss to your knuckles, a soft purr rumbling forth from his chassis as you tilted your head to face him once again. 

“This does not define you.” He moved to your wrist, doing the same all while holding your gaze steadily. 

“We will get through this together.” Grievous repeated the process, this time to your collarbone.

“Nothing will change the way I feel about you.” Removing his servo from your stomach, he rested his faceplate against that spot, the heat he exuded making the discomfort much more tolerable. 

You blinked rapidly, though the tears that gathered were not ones of sadness or despair, but of hope. Your hands rested against the back of his helm, fingers tracing gently down the sides of his receptor panels, and the purr that vibrated through him grew in volume. “Thank you.” You whispered, knowing that he would hear regardless of how quiet you were. His arms curled behind you to hold you to him. Grievous spoke, his words distorted and alien, but you knew what he was saying, having heard it many times in the past. He was professing his love for you in the most intimate way he could; in the language of the Kaleesh. Smiling, your eyes drifted closed, the familiar weight of him against you lulling you to sleep.

As long as the two of you had each other, everything would be okay. 

“I love you too, Qymaen…”

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry if some things in this are TMI (mainly the period stuff) but this is something I'm actually going through right now as a trans man so...I'm just really distraught and needed something nice to make myself feel better, and soft General Grievous is my way of coping :)


End file.
